Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders I ask and answer the question:
What Would The Red Death Look Like?
Do you know what I saw last night?
Do you know what I saw when I looked out my bedroom window
just after midnight when the night sky was full of darkness and the air heavy with cries of Nightjars and bats singing out to their prey?
Do you know what I saw
when I looked out my window and a terrible creature
with a broken face and a missing eye screamed at me from it’s nightmare
I saw my reflection in my window.
That’s what I saw.
From The Danse Macabre Prompt Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders
Brainstormed and thought about how Red Death would enter Prince Prospero’s fortress-this is how I saw it:
It whispered in her ear
it was a shadow in the corner of his eye
it made their dog howl in despair at the stars
it trapped their cat in the window
and asked them as they stood there frozen in fear
with a voice as smooth and cold as bitter fog from a thousand cemeteries
” I’m here, won’t you welcome me in? “
It said to one and all
Nothing was there
they insisted that night.
There nothing to see, nothing to hear
especially nothing to feel
nothing was there except a thin red veil
that covered the face of the Moon.
If I were asked
to chose the music for a Ball
where Death and Terror
held sway over all
I would dig up a band
from unmarked graves
and I set them up
on a decrepit old stage
I would ask them to sing
and slightly off key
so that no one outside the ball room
would notice the screams.
The Red Death Project
From Danse Macabre : Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders The Red Death Project-
Photo A.M. Moscoso
The Masque has been hanging in my attic all of my life- it was there when my Parents owned my house and it was there when my Great Grandparents had the house built in 1901.
Nobody knows where it came from or who hung it or why nobody ever took it down.
It seemed better, wiser, to just leave it alone to the darkness and the dust – because sometimes it sounded like someone was up there with it and during those times we made sure the attic door was locked.
“There’s nothing up there,” we would say as we turned the skeleton key and backed slowly away from that door and hurried down the hall to the safety of the well lit living room.
There is nothing in that huge dark room that hangs over heads we told ourselves- nothing except for that Masque, and it’s occasional visitor.
Three days ago I started to hear music.
I’m not ashamed to admit- the music worries me to the point of distraction and I’m having trouble sleeping at night and it’s almost impossible to wake up in the morning.
I think that slightly off key tune that howls like the wind just before the storm hits is an invitation and I am sure that any day now, the RSVP’s will start to arrive